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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29638215">Desi Drabbles</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desidera/pseuds/Desidera'>Desidera</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime &amp; Manga)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:55:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,300</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29638215</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desidera/pseuds/Desidera</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>My drabble collection.</p><p>Chapter 1: Delicate Strokes<br/>Chapter 2: Practice</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Atem/Kaiba Seto, Atem/Priest Seto, Kaiba Seto/Yami Yuugi | Atem</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Delicate Strokes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For Cuilchan, have fun with it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The scraping sound of the blade against delicate skin was exquisite. The hand wielding it was dragging it down from the soft indentation beneath his ear to the chiselled curve of his chin. The tilt of his head exposed a long graceful neck, a tender pallid throat. Flakes of white foam clung to the skin next to his ear, aggregated on the edge of his jawline. </p><p> </p><p>Atem managed with difficulty to shake himself out of the stunned state the display had put him into. He had been on his way to their bedroom to get dressed but had immediately aborted his plan when he had passed the bathroom door. </p><p> </p><p>Smiling to himself, Atem leisurely strolled into the bathroom and planted himself on top of the wooden laundry chest that was almost always empty courtesy of Seto's eager housekeeping staff. His lush violet bathrobe slipped away to expose one of his tanned legs and a muscular thigh when he placed his foot on the wooden box and pulled his knee up to his chest. </p><p> </p><p>Seto had certainly noticed him but didn't acknowledge his presence in any way. </p><p> </p><p>"You should be advertising men's shaving products, you know," Atem advised playfully. "I can't fathom how you manage to look this hot wielding a razor."</p><p> </p><p>Seto smirked at his image in the bathroom mirror. "That's because <em> you </em> don't do it right."</p><p> </p><p>Fair enough, Atem lacked the patience to remove annoying stubble with the same deliberate and controlled movements Seto employed. </p><p> </p><p>Atem smiled sweetly at Seto's reflection. "Looks like you'll have to teach me."</p><p> </p><p>"I might." Seto finished the last stroke, shaking off and rinsing the razor blade, then put it away to wash his face and apply the aftershave he knew drove Atem up the wall with repressed desire whenever they were out together. Atem took a deep breath of the heady scent wafting through the room. </p><p> </p><p>"How about now?" he suggested, unfolding his body from its crouched position on the chest. </p><p> </p><p>Seto glanced at him over his shoulder, briefly looking him up and down. </p><p> </p><p>"You already shaved yesterday." </p><p> </p><p>Atem deliberately stepped into his space, nudging him gently aside with his hip to stand next to him. "It's gonna be a short demonstration then. Where do I start?" </p><p> </p><p>"This." Seto handed him a small bottle with a watery substance inside. "Cleans and moisturizes."</p><p> </p><p>Atem poured a little into his palm and rubbed it into his skin. "That makes you sound even more like an ad for skin products."</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Gently</em>, Pharaoh." Seto rolled his eyes. "I've actually had a French company ask me about an ad for - oh for the love of God, let me..." He reached for Atem's face, pulled his hands away and began to softly massage the liquid into Atem's skin. Atem closed his eyes, basking in the feeling of his face being cradled within the cup of Seto's long fingers while his thumbs were running over Atem's cheekbones and philtrum. </p><p> </p><p>"You're good to go. Now, shaving foam."</p><p> </p><p>“Yes Sir,” Atem grinned, opening his eyes to wink at Seto who handed him a brush and squeezed a generous amount of foam into Atem’s left hand. </p><p> </p><p>While Atem was dappling foam onto his face, he followed Seto's movements in the mirror, noting how carefully he was testing the edge of the razor blade before choosing a new one for Atem. Finally satisfied, Seto moved to stand behind him. </p><p> </p><p>"You want me to do it?" he asked gruffly. </p><p> </p><p>Atem nodded, leaning back slightly to feel his back touch Seto's bare chest and inhaling deeply to catch another intoxicating whiff of his aftershave. Seto bent his head briefly to press a kiss to Atem's shoulder, newly exposed where the bathrobe had slipped away. Then he got to work. </p><p> </p><p>The blade touched Atem's skin, a smooth glide on a recently shaved cheek.</p><p> </p><p>"Delicate strokes," Seto instructed in a low voice, lips close to his ear. "Shave with the grain first." He used his other hand to pull the skin taut, dragging the razor's edge carefully across Atem's jaw. </p><p> </p><p>Atem, watching him work with half-lidded eyes, was suddenly thrown off balance when Seto leaned forward, trapping his hips against the vanity unit. He gasped, hands darting out to grip the counter, and felt Seto's grin where his lips were ghosting over Atem's shoulder. </p><p> </p><p>Seto turned on the faucet while he rubbed his groin against Atem's backside in a slow grind. Atem's breathing grew heavier as he became aware of Seto's growing hardness against him. </p><p>Methodically rinsing the razor blade with cold water every few strokes, Seto continued to run it excruciatingly slowly and gently over Atem's skin. Breathy moans fogged over the mirror, Atem's own hardness pressing against the cabinet. </p><p> </p><p>"This is how you do it," Seto whispered against his skin, accentuating his words with a gentle bite to Atem's shoulder which caused his breath to hitch before it stuttered out in a helpless groan. </p><p> </p><p>"This is also how you're gonna make us late for a charity gala," Atem teased. </p><p> </p><p>"I'm the CEO, who the hell's gonna call me out for being late to my own event?" Seto gingerly put the razor away after cleaning it one last time and surveyed his handiwork, stilling the movements of his hips. Atem made a protesting noise, trying to regain their intimate contact, but Seto had taken a step to the side to fetch a damp towel and wipe Atem's face clean. </p><p> </p><p>"Your aftershave or mine?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yours," Atem answered immediately, his hand darting out to grab Seto's and pull him close for a scorching kiss. "I want them all smelling you on me." His lips caught Seto's damp ones, again, and again, each kiss consigned on a soft gasping breath. </p><p> </p><p>Seto's lips tugged at his lower lip but evaded him when he tried to retaliate. "We can prolong this," Seto murmured with an edge of danger to his voice, fumbling with the belt of Atem's bathrobe, "We can make them <em> squirm."</em></p><p> </p><p>"Ohh yes," Atem hissed, and the bathrobe fell away. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Practice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For Pridefulrose. <br/>Because a) I took some inspiration to make their names work for this sort-of historical (not historically accurate) AU from your "Chevalier d'émeraude" fic and b) because I know you like to dress him up. ^^<br/>Forgive the slight angst, I know you just want them to be happy, and I promise it's not too bad. YGO canon is a lot harsher on them than I am.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The nanny is having a fit. Watching her shuffling through the corridors, Set furtively counts the grey hairs glinting in her tight chignon - courtesy of her precious forsterling and his wild spirit. “Help me look, boy,” she groans, almost begs, as she is trudging up the stairs, and he follows after her with light steps, his legs already longer than her sturdy ones, despite his young age. Reaching the top of the stairway moments after her, he gingerly turns to the left, ignoring her soft calls of “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Antonius Timaeus!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Where in the Lord’s name </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>you this time?” Using his given name, instead of the short sobriquet he has acquired during the eventful eleven years of his young life. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Set slips into the boudoir where he is certain he is going to find his little cousin, and sure enough, Atem is there. The sight of him stops Set in his tracks. Atem’s slender body is drowning in a heap of rosé and gold fabric, a robe polonaise nicked from one of his sisters’ closets: Rich embroidery on a bodice that, lacking a dresser’s skilled hands, is loosely encasing the little boy’s torso, an enormous overskirt draped in swags over a ruffled petticoat, frilly sleeves that are wont to flatter the princess’ pale forearms huge where they slip from his shoulders too tan for a prince supposed to spend his days shying away from the sun. Only his fingertips are white, dipped in loose powder from an open jar on the dressing table. His back is turned, but Set can see his face in the mirror, his lips and cheeks glimmering with rose petal dots dabbed softly onto the artificial white surface, but his eyes dark and serious as he regards his reflection critically. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>An exhalation soft as a sigh escapes Set’s lips and Atem starts violently with fright. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s only me,” he hastens to whisper as his cousin turns, and he sees him quickly trying to hide his wide scared eyes behind a mask of bravery. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course it’s you, Set,” he grins. “Come here, I require your assistance.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I am not going to lace up your bodice for you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll need to help me practice.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Set takes an incredulous step forward and is received with a fiendish smile and an outstretched delicate hand, firmly taking hold of his wrist and pulling him closer. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Practice what exactly?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My future marriage.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s there to practice about it?” Set huffs, trying to conceal his flustered state from the other. Being a few years older than Atem, he has a number of ideas about the nature of marriage, bits and pieces of conversation picked up in the palace whenever he has been well out of sight to those speaking. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Saying the vows, mostly. I mustn't be nervous when the moment comes, after all.” Atem picks at the lace on his left elbow with nimble fingers.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You most certainly won’t be wearing one of your sister’s gowns for that.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, would </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>like to wear the gown for our marriage practice?” Atem needles, cheeky, and when Set comments with a snort, he adds, “I thought so. It has to be me then, doesn’t it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I still don’t understand why you insist…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hush,” Atem orders, a grotesque discrepancy in his frail-looking body sticking out of the rosé gold monstrosity of a dress and the determined authority on his face. “Now listen, so you may learn something.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He is drawing a deep breath, like the singers at the opera preparing to rain a cascade of brilliant notes over their rapt audience’s ears. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We have gathered to join in marriage these two kindred souls today, who have found their way to each other through long and painful strife - that’s good, isn’t it, Set? I should be a priest instead of a prince.” He gives an iridescent laugh that trickles down Set’s back like tiny beads before he continues, in a stage whisper, “Give me your hand, Set.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Set’s heart quivers, nearly painful in his chest, beneath his throat, when Atem spreads his pale fingers out with his tanned ones, a fine sheen of white powder transferring from their tips to his, then places that hand over his chest, right over his heart. A pas de deux: The rhythm of Set’s heartbeat now interspersed with Atem’s.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My most beloved. I promise you every ray of sunshine that I can catch in my father’s reading glass. I promise you each slice of delicious cake I can acquire at dinner. I promise you each precious marble I possess in my secret box of treasures.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Set is trying to speak guardedly past the rising lump in his throat. “These are not proper marriage vows.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Atem raises an eyebrow at him, his eyes stabbing him with their intensity. “Would you say this is a proper marriage? Now play along.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Set doesn’t reply he continues, merciless and blissfully unaware of the tremor his voice sends through Set’s body.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I promise to share with you every joke I ever hear and every dream I ever dream.” He pauses, as if to think, and smiles slightly when an idea seems to come to his mind. “I promise you my very thoughts, my very breath, my very blood if you will have it and take it and treasure it in return.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Set cannot speak. His throat is too tight. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Setentius Critias, present in body and spirit in this humble worldly abode, will you take me and have me as your lawfully wedded husband?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Atem’s eyes are sparkling encouragement and Set croaks out, “I, Setentius Critias, will take you, Antonius Timaeus, as my lawfully wedded husband. If you will have me.” A mere whisper on the last words. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course I will,” Atem laughs. “Now I believe there is a kiss to be exchanged.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But Set has already leaned in, his hand slipping from Atem’s chest to his neck, cradling it as his dry trembling lips brush over Atem’s soft ones, leaving them dropped open ever so slightly on a shuddered exhale. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Atem’s eyes have closed in stunned shock, but Set doesn’t wait for them to open again before he flees from the room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The nanny is having a fit. Watching her shuffling through the corridors, Set marvels at how fast her hair has turned white during those last few years, still pulled into a tight chignon at the back of her head, how much slower her steps have become as she is trudging up the stairs. “Come on, boy,” she huffs, gasping, “Help me find that rascal.” Set leaves her leaning against the banister as she is catching her breath and opens the door to silently slip into the boudoir. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Atem is there, sure enough, regarding himself in the mirror with a serious and critical gaze, his purple eyes blazing, his unusual hair defying every single barber’s attempt to keep it in place. He is wearing his gala uniform, proud red and regal gold flattering his slender but muscular frame. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He startles slightly when he becomes aware of Set’s step despite the carpeted floor, but smiles at his reflection when he catches his eyes in the mirror. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you remember?” he inquires softly, his deep voice like a velvet blanket dropping over them both and shielding them from the rest of the world. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Set merely snorts and steps behind him to allow Atem to lean his back against Set’s chest. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re well prepared to meet your bride-to-be, I believe.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Atem closes his eyes and takes his time to inhale Set’s presence.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can say no.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They both know he won’t. No is not an option that the politics of their country can sustain. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You are still wedded to me first,” Set hisses quietly, next to his ear. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Atem’s smile strikes swift like lightning. “I am.”</span>
</p>
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